“Bury our treasure, then, son Cornelius, we must bear that. The Hebrews in Toledo, once masters before the Moors, are still numerous. Our foes are divided. All is prepared. The bribes are ready. He can raise no gold. Already the ground is mined under his feet, and then"--and he stretches forth his hand and points to the vast expanse of river, mountain, rocky gorge, and undulating plain, the white tents of the pretender visible through the foliage--“this alien camp shall give place to the royal standard, and the Hebrew name again be raised high among the nations. Then, son Cornelius, we shall receive what interest we choose to ask for our gold.” “But blood will flow in rivers, my father, before that comes; who knows if not ours?” “Speak not of it, my son,” answers the older man, veiling his face with his hands, “I love neither danger nor poison. If Blanche dies"--but what he was about to say is drowned in a tumult of voices rising from the street, and soon a rabble of boys and men fill the _paseo_, while below, the music of trumpets and fifes thunders through the close alley, as a gallant body of knights, attended by their esquires, march towards the old square of the Zocodover (restricted as to size, as is all else in Toledo), where the lists have been prepared for a passage of arms between the chief officers of Aragon and Navarre. CHAPTER XII Don Enrique and Albuquerque in Council The scene changes to the Arab court of the Alcazar, where, under lines of granite columns, knights and courtiers, heralds and pages, pass in and out. Nothing speaks of a city entered by surprise, and held on chance. To look at the radiant scene, on which a fierce sun shoots down, no one would imagine that, but a few weeks since, Don Enrique was wandering over Spain, an outcast and a rebel. Presently a burly, thick-set noble appears, wearing a dark velvet _manto_, high fur-edged cap, and Cordoba boots, provided with spurs which clank as he moves. His presence instantly impresses silence on those around; for Don Jaime Alvarez is as rough in his manners as are his native Asturian mountains; not a man to be trifled with at home or abroad. He at least clearly estimates the dangers of the present position, and casts a grim scowl on the frivolous idlers loitering about. As he leans over the balustrade, halfway up the sculptured marble stair, his eye wanders round as if in search of some one, and again he frowns as he notes the careless bearing of the sentinels who guard the entrance, and the peals of laughter which break from time to time from the undercurrent of talk below.